


My Name Is Hawke, And I Am A Woman

by badgerterritory



Series: My Name Is Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Trans Bisexual Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerterritory/pseuds/badgerterritory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke is a woman, and she is glad to surround herself with the people who see it.</p>
<p>A transgender Hawke across all three acts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Name Is Hawke, And I Am A Woman

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this does contain non-graphic mentions of sex. I am going to write another story about a trans male Hawke, so stay tuned.

After Bethany died, after Flemeth took them to Gwaren, after they made it onto a ship, Hawke went through a transformation.

Carver accepted it without question. Leandra questioned, but didn’t complain when Hawke said it was what she wanted. Aveline simply shrugged and said it wasn’t her place to judge.

Hawke had left Lothering as the man she knew she wasn’t; she arrived at Kirkwall as the woman she knew she was.

Casting felt strange with a padded chest, but she got used to it quickly. In fact, exhilarated by her new transformation, she sent out bolts even faster and more powerful than she ever had before. It was enough that Carver mentioned it, once they were at Gamlen’s home.

"You seem happier," Carver said as Leandra introduced her son and daughter. "I’m glad for you, sister. After… everything, we all deserve some happiness."

Grateful, she hugged him. “If you need my help finding your happiness, Carver, just ask. Though I understand if you want time to yourself.”

Carver sighed. “Let’s just focus on getting through our year. We can see what comes after that.”

Athenril didn’t care about Hawke’s body; she only cared about Hawke, and her magical prowess. But she did smuggle in herbs that would suppress the male parts of her and enhance the female, for which Hawke was eternally grateful.

When their year ended, the herbs kept coming.

After that, they needed to find something else. They found Bartrand, and through Bartrand found Varric. At first Hawke was glad that she had a slim and feminine figure, because surely such a clever dwarf would see through her if she were larger, but then she realized that it didn’t matter, because all Varric cared about were her heart and ears. She listened to his stories and she cared about people, and that was enough for him.

Still. “You must have something to say on the subject,” Hawke said one day, nursing a mug of watered-down ale. “Everyone I’ve met so far does.”

Varric just chuckled. “Hawke, you’re, what, twenty-five? I am thirty-two years old, and if there’s anything I’ve learned in my thirty-two years, it’s that people will do what they have to to be happy. And what am I supposed to say, anyways? That I know better than you? I don’t, and if you say you’re a woman I’m going to have to believe you. You certainly look the part, anyways.”

Hawke smiled and wrapped an arm around him. “You know, you are my favorite dwarf. Much less taciturn than your brother, anyhow.”

Varric laughed and bought them another round.

It was a day later that Hawke finally made it up to the Keep to visit Aveline, and the whole mess with the guards distracted her from her intention to fulfill her promise to Flemeth. When they were all relaxing in Aveline’s new office Hawke asked, “What do you think of me? Being… as I am, I mean. You never did answer before.”

Aveline shrugged steadily. “I did. Not my fault if you didn’t listen. It’s not my place to question who you are. You say you’re a woman, fine. Whether you were a man or woman or something in-between, you’d still be Hawke. Still the person who smirked at my husband after he threatened your life. That’s what matters to me. And if anyone harasses you, I’ll gladly abuse my power to crack them over the head with my shield.”

Hawke thanked her profusely, holding back tears. Then she suddenly remembered her promise to Flemeth, and the four of them departed for the mountain. A convenient excuse to avoid her feelings, truly.

They met with the keeper, and the whole clan was staring at Hawke and making her uncomfortable. When she brought it up with Merrill after they introduced themselves, she said, “Oh, the clan doesn’t see very many humans, you know. Why? Is there another reason they’d stare?”

Carver chuckled. “Just some cosmetic things my sister’s self-conscious about. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Hawke glared at him, but Merrill accepted this without question, and they moved on… directly into a fight. Merrill cast spells gracefully and powerfully. Beautifully, really. It entranced Hawke, who spent as much time attacking as she did staring at Merrill.

After they reached the altar, and Flemeth came out of the amulet, she smirked at Hawke and raised an eyebrow but said nothing about it, continuing on with chatting them up. Afterwards, Hawke explored further up the mountain before going back down.

When they went to the alienage afterwards, Merrill hugged Hawke. “I know, you know,” she murmured. “There are people like you in the Dalish. We have a special word for them. We call them women.”

Hawke smiled and squeezed before letting go. Merrill was too kind, really.

After that was a few weeks of hard, dirty work. They met with the Arishok after killing a cave full of Tal-Vashoth, they did a job for Athenril, they met Isabela and helped her fend off an ambush at midnight. Hayder saw Hawke and sneered, called her unnatural. Isabela threw a dagger into his chest and cut his throat, and Hawke knew what she thought.

Later, after Hawke pressed, Isabela laughed quietly. “I’m a seawoman, Hawke. You meet all kinds of people. I’ve met plenty of women like you before. The only difference between you and me is something that nobody should care about, and that nobody knows unless they get at that hot little body of yours. You’re a woman, through and through, and you shouldn’t ever accept anyone questioning it. If they do, just stab them in the chest and slit their throat. Worked well enough tonight.”

Isabela was the one who gave them a lead on Anso’s job, and Hawke investigated thoroughly before meeting with the dwarf. There was some fighting, an empty chest, more fighting, and then…

And then there was Fenris.

Hawke’s first impression was that he was as beautiful as Merrill was. Her second impression was that he was very cold. But she still agreed to help him find and kill his former master, and afterwards, he confronted her. “It’s bad enough, you being… what you are.” Fenris shook his head. “But a mage as well. What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil? And now here magic is, in my life once again.”

Isabela hummed. “So which one of us gets to kick him in the crotch?”

"I vote me," Carver said. Hawke glared at them both to quiet them.

"That’s a wonderful way to say thank you." Sarcasm and anger twisted Hawke’s words and Fenris sighed.

"If I sound ungrateful, I am not." Fenris rolled his shoulders. "People like you were common in Tevinter. None that were so… brazen about it, though. I suppose I should repay you for your assistance. I’m yours, if you’ll have me."

"And you don’t have a problem with me?" Hawke stepped into Fenris’s personal space. "My womanhood, or my magic?"

"For the former, I won’t bring it up again." Fenris stood a little straighter. "As for the latter, I will watch carefully. That’s all I promise."

Hawke considered. “On one condition. I get a free punch.”

Fenris snorted. “I suppose I should have seen that one coming. Very well, then.”

Hawke knocked Fenris on his ass and felt much better afterwards. “I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you,” she said, helping him up. “Where are you going to be staying?”

Fenris motioned to the mansion and Hawke nodded.

It was another week before Hawke managed to track down the Grey Warden. She decided not to take the mage-hater with her to meet an important mage ally. She took Aveline, Isabela, and Varric. The three people she trusted most.

After they met Anders, after they helped him find his friend, after he proved to be a friendly and humorous man (the abomination thing aside), he said, “You know, I could help you.”

Hawke’s heart nearly stopped for a moment. “Er. What?”

"You know, with your…" He waved a hand towards her body. "You’re using herbs, right? I knew a woman in the Fereldan Circle, and she had this routine, it really helped her. If you want, I could figure out a way to send a message to her and ask about it." Hawke thanked him and said if he could without endangering himself, he should.

He just laughed and said he’d see what he could do.

* * *

It was strange, Hawke thought, being a woman and a mage. Being feminine was supposed to be about being thin and pretty and dainty, but there she was, cracking darkspawn over the head with a staff as tall as she was and throwing lightning around like it was the newest fashion in Orlais.

She’d taken to wearing a corset, to give her body a bit more curve. It was specially designed for her, to avoid reducing her range of movement as much as possible, which was important to her. It had taken some time to get used to it, but get used to it she had.

And with the advice that Anders had managed to get to Hawke just before the Deep Roads expedition left, she was standing knee-deep in darkspawn corpses feeling like a goddamn woman.

Once the expedition was over and she returned home, she found Carver leaving to join the templars. “Don’t worry,” he said, hugging her. “I won’t give you up. But I have to find my own way, sister.” Before he left, though, he held her at arm’s length and said, “You look good. The Deep Roads must have been good to you.”

Hawke laughed. “Maybe if you ever get some time off, I’ll tell you about it. Then you’ll be glad I didn’t let you come with.”

Carver hugged her again and left.

The following months were characterized by tensions between humans and Qunari and Hawke’s growing affections for Merrill and Fenris, who hadn’t relaxed his stance about mages much but had eventually accepted and began to learn about Hawke.

When she fell into bed with Fenris, she told Merrill the day after, and she smiled sadly and said she wished the two of them luck. It made her heart ache and she slept with Merrill that night, showing how much she loved her in every kiss, lick, bite, scratch, and thrust of fingers into Merrill.

Of course, that only made everything more complicated.

After confessing to Fenris and getting thrown out on her ass, Hawke went to Aveline for advice, and found Aveline struggling with her own romantic troubles. Helping Aveline sort through her mess didn’t help Hawke much at all.

She went to Isabela, but Isabela just told her to fuck both of them at the same time, if possible. Varric just laughed at her. When she complained about that to Anders, he laughed harder. She briefly considered writing a letter to Carver, but she knew that he’d just tell her not to mix him up in her romantic life.

Then there was the whole thing with Sebastian, and he turned out to be a sanctimonious prick, and she knocked him on his ass like she did with Fenris and decided she wouldn’t ever talk to him again and only bring him with her if it was absolutely necessary.

Although she did particularly enjoy forcing him to help mages and look at how the Chantry screwed people like her and Anders.

Eventually, through much soul-searching and bedding Fenris and Merrill each three more times, Merrill moved in with her.

That evening, they were reading together in the study when Gamlen burst in. “Where is your mother, girl?” he demanded. “She was supposed to be at my house for our weekly visit an hour ago.”

Hawke waved a hand vaguely. “Do I look like I keep track of my mother wherever she goes? I’m sure she just stopped by the shops first, Uncle.”

Bodahn poked his head in. “Or she could be out with her suitor. Someone left some white lilies for her.”

Hawke’s heart stopped. In the next moment, when it started again, she felt ice cold. “Merrill, stay here in case she returns.” Hawke fought to keep her voice under control. “I… I need to get Aveline. I’ll be back later.”

It was easy to get out of her finery and into her armored robes, and she gripped her staff with both hands.

First she went to Fenris. She said only, “That serial murderer has my mother,” and Fenris grabbed his sword and followed without question. She said the same to Aveline, who ordered five guards to look for Leandra and report to Aveline if they found anything. Varric took one look at Hawke’s face and let his cup clatter to the floor as he rushed for Bianca.

It was an orphan who pointed them towards the foundry. Hawke carved a steady path through the shades and demons and walking corpses, not allowing anything to stop her. When she found the man who killed her mother, stuck her head onto some… thing, he tried to monologue at her, but she interrupted him by throwing her knife.

The following fight was short but brutal. Hawke brought down the mage first, casting bolts at him as she closed in and throwing lightning into his chest at close range before beating his head savagely with ice-enhanced strikes. Then she turned her attention to the raised creatures, destroying them all with ruthless efficiency.

And when it was over, the thing with her mother’s head had just enough energy to stumble into Hawke’s arms.

"I am so proud of you," she whispered, feebly attempting to raise a hand to Hawke’s cheek. "I raised a little boy. If only I knew the strong woman you were sooner. How long did you suffer because I couldn’t see who you were? My beautiful daughter…"

"It’s fine, Mother." Hawke lifted foreign fingers to her lips and kissed the back of that hand. She didn’t even know if her mother felt it, but her eyelids fluttered shut. "It’s all right. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were so good to me. Please don’t die, Mother…"

"I’ll be fine," she whispered. "I’ll see Bethany again. And your father. Please tell… please take care of Carver… and tell him I love him…" Leandra sighed as her head lolled back. "He’d be so proud of you… his little girl…"

And she died.

It cracked something in Hawke, when that thing with her mother’s face and mind died in her arms. She began spending more time with Fenris, talking about everything except Leandra. The others, it was all they wanted to talk about, but Fenris understood that it was too fresh a wound to poke at.

That crack slowly hardened into something dark and cold in her heart that she didn’t want to look at or think about, something that showed itself every time something tried to attack Merrill or Fenris or Aveline and Hawke destroyed it in a rain of fire, ice, or lightning.

It didn’t melt until Isabela walked in with the Tome of Koslun and handed it to the Arishok, and the Arishok demanded Isabela, and Hawke denied him. Then the Arishok challenged Hawke to single combat. Everything in her screamed against it, but it was the only way to make the Qunari leave peacefully and her blood was screaming in her ears to  _make him pay_  for threatening Isabela.

He charged her, first, and she threw a fireball into his chest. He growled “Saarebas!” at her and charged again. She sidestepped, barely, and danced away from the huge blade that swung at her.

She ran to the opposite wall and then spun, casting five bolts of spirit energy before he caught up with her. She ducked his swing, fired a lightning bolt into him, and then ran for it, wondering how the goddamn Qunari were so resilient.

She fired three more spirit bolts, and when he got closer, he surprised her by throwing away one of his weapons. It threw her off long enough for him to grab her, and then she gasped and choked as a long blade was thrust through her stomach.

In that moment, she understood two things. The first: She was almost certainly going to die. The second: She was going to make sure that the Arishok died first.

She stared straight into his eyes and ignored the spreading warmth as she called on her blood’s power. She placed her palm on his forehead.

And released all the power of a thousand storms directly into his head.

Merrill was the last thing she saw before she blacked out, and she realized that if she didn’t die, she was going to have to move on and grieve her mother. Because not grieving was certainly going to kill her.

* * *

She was named the Champion of Kirkwall as soon as it was announced she would live. The Knight-Commander was forced to announce, in front of a crowd of cheering nobles, that the Champion and her companions would be free of the Circle as long as they defended Kirkwall. Anders was certainly cheerful enough about that.

A number of exciting things happened over the next three years. The first was that Hawke finally got to a place where she could look at the door to her mother’s room without crying. Then Aveline left for Orlais on her honeymoon. When Hawke made a full recovery, Fenris came by and there wasn’t even a hint of romantic or sexual attraction left. They were friends, and Hawke was glad.

Hawke decided to side with Orsino during the alarmingly public argument between him and Meredith, despite the fact that he thought of her as repulsive and Meredith was much more polite. She pushed past that, helping Orsino as much as possible in the next few months, ignoring the comments he made, telling herself that if it was to help the mages, she would put up with him.

She saved Merrill’s clan from themselves, something that made her proud, and she helped Merrill begin grieving. She helped Anders with his mysterious task, whatever it was, even though it made her nervous. She met with  _the_  Leliana, who was sweet and kind even as she was forward and businesslike.

When the Chantry exploded, when Anders said he did it, all she could think about was how to fix it. She let Anders live and told him he’d pay for what he did someday, somehow. Sebastian left (and good riddance, honestly) and Carver voiced his displeasure but followed her lead as always. Anders was more useful alive than dead.

What happened next was like a bad dream. Orsino used blood magic and transformed into a monster, and Hawke killed him. She crushed his deformed body under her boot.

Then she fought Meredith, driven mad by the red lyrium. Meredith turned to stone. The templars let her leave.

What happened next was much better.

Isabela ordered everyone to board her ship and they set sail. Anders was kept, by his own request, locked up.

On the seventh day, Hawke leaned against the railing on the port side of the ship and smiled, breathing the sea air in deeply as she always did. Carver had just announced his intentions to leave to find another Chantry to serve as soon as they landed in Ferelden. Varric had said that he’d probably head back to Kirkwall, help rebuild. Fenris intended to return to Tevinter and fight against the corruption there, armed with the knowledge that magic wasn’t necessarily evil. Aveline intended to return to the Fereldan army, if she could.

Merrill wanted to stay with Hawke, which was fine with her, and Isabela said she was going to sail around the world, and that Hawke and Merrill were definitely welcome, which was also fine with her.

"Hello, lethallan." Hawke turned and smiled at Merrill, and kissed her. Merrill pressed against her and murmured, "You look thoughtful."

Hawke hummed. “Just thinking.”

Merrill giggled. “Well, be careful, Hawke. I hear that can be dangerous.” Hawke was about to retort when Merrill leaned in, cupped her chest, and murmured, “Why don’t we see how your breasts are growing, lethallan?”

Hawke’s mouth went dry. “Isabela told you to say that,” she accused.

"Of course she did." Merrill kissed Hawke’s cheek. "Now stop thinking and come make love to me in my hammock."

Smiling, Hawke followed.


End file.
